That is how many times I wrote in my blog last year. Four. Times. I went back and read my whopping recap of a year, it didn’t take long and it’s sad to me that I didn’t take the time to share throughout my year. Well, I did on the fb vortex and a whole lot of instagram. Sometimes photos say a lot more than words ever can. But it’s bothering me that a year went by and somehow I only brought myself to document it four times.
2017 was a motherfucker of a year. We all went into it with this somber feeling, kind of like when you need to be around relatives that are bad for your bones. I couldn’t name one person that walked away from it unscathed. The sheer amount of blood, sweat and tears that emerged from 2017 were enough metaphorical fluids to fill jars.
It was indeed one of the hardest of my life for a myriad of reasons that I am working toward leaving behind me so I can look onward, upward and on to somewhat greener pastures. We are in a drought though, so who knows how green they will ever be. You can’t move forward if you’re constantly looking behind you after all.
But amongst the turmoil, discord and absolutely gutting parts that life put in front of me, the year didn’t come without its joys like seeing my family, traveling to Japan and getting to scratch more parts of it off my bucket list, Mexico, reconnecting with old friends, getting small glimpses of the person my Mother was despite the fact she’s leaving us, increasing my artistic voice despite being met with tapped out rivers of creativity, sunsets and moon rises, 3 weeks of constant insect symphonies, solidifying bonds with those who matter most and feeling like I am a part of something much bigger… despite when I have those moments of feeling a little too small. Microscopic even.
One thing I do know is that I fell victim to things that were against my nature. My anxiety swallowed me whole. I stopped writing. I stopped sending letters. I stopped finding joy and pride in the really simple things that used to make me light up like a canopy of stars when you finally leave city limits. I got caught in the absolutely toxic wheel of our current state of affairs. I slipped into the pool of vapidity and self serving nature – that while at times was done for well intended self preservation, still left me feeling like I have the ability and capacity for more. I retreated into this cocoon that has become this shell of who I am but I would like to think it’s because the metamorphosis has yet to come.
That’s not one thing. That’s a lot of things.
So maybe this is what I need to do. Write more, put it out into the world more no matter who sees it and if it gets likes or not. To reach out a little harder, not because I want someone to grasp back but because it makes me feel complete again.
I like this idea. I’ll be here more.